'My ghost likes to travel...' is a line in a PG tune called 'Growing Up.' So true. This little jaunt began on a Sunday with NJ, continued Monday with Philly then proceeded to Thursday and New York City. And did I mention that on Tuesday I went to my class out at Penn State, effectively making Wednesday my only travel-free day? And did I also mention that I work? Small details, really. But if there is one thing that I firmly believe in it's that you must seize rare opportunities. PG is 52. This album - 'Up' - was released about 10 years after his last one. At his current pace, this would mean he'd be in his early 60's for his next tour. I'm thinking the same thing: not gonna happen. Solution? Take full advantage of the here and now, because the future, my friends, is quite uncertain. It is in this spirit that I first purchased all these tickets. And I don't regret it one bit.
NYC. The garden. Truly a great venue, though it reeks of years of cheap beer, spilled helter skelter. Great crowd. Great show. Arguably the best of the four I attended. One of the reasons for this assertion is that my new traveler (my other traveler could not attend this evening) and I were upgraded to about 12 rows from the stage. Our initial tickets were first level, pretty good from where I was sitting. But I wasn't going to argue. The usher approached me with her query. I replied, quiet candidly, that I have been following PG since Sunday; that I'd spent tons of money on these shows; and that she best give me the money tickets in her pile and show me some love because I was supremely deserving. She laughed and promptly hooked us up. Seats were the best of the shows.
A wonderful experience. I really enjoyed the NYC show. Aside from being a bit road weary, I felt much energy on this night. I was really getting into the groove; really understanding what PG was going for. Really beginning to appreciate the show on its own. And I left this performance with a deep appreciation of this guy. This random guy that I'm dropping quite a bit cash on, following around the eastern seaboard. All around me fans were marvelling at the show. The music, the production, the lights, the effects. The folks next to me flew from Miami FLA just to see the show.
And the urination stories continue...
Doesn't it always seem that when you must urinate - when it absolutely must happen - there's no hope in sight? Myself and my new traveler were stuck in traffic, a few miles out of the Lincoln tunnel. The achieva idling happily, no low coolant light yet displayed (though I would have to refill to make the trek home). I was positively pained by the need to pee. Completely debilitated. I approached, inch by inch, the ever-present green highway sign that read 'last exit in NJ.' I took it. It was Weehawken. Ever heard of it? Well I thought that having the word 'Wee' in the name was strangely ironic. I hoped, blindly, that some place would come to my relief. A few miles off the main drag I was able to pull into a grocery store strip with some other shops. Parked the car and exited. I couldn't stand up. Literally. I could not stand to my full height. I had to walk to the McDonalds partially crouched. Attempts to walk normally were immediately crushed by pain. I swear I was in the john for 90 seconds. Too much information?? Well it's my website...
And the show goes on.
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